what’s your itch

I learned in the last week that the first signs of healing from a burn after the pain has subsided is an itching sensation; pruritis is the proper medical term. This was not information I had intended to learn, but life has a sneaky way of educating us when we least expect it.

And although we welcomed pruritis as an early sign of recovery, anyone who has ever had an itch knows that it can be annoying, persistent, unbearable, and even tortuous, and that the simple act of scratching can be the sweetest form of relief and respite.

An itch is demanding, begging for attention; sometimes in a hard-to-reach spot that needs the aid of a friend. An itch does not retreat on its own willingly and cheerfully; it’s a continual ringing in the ear, a poking in the side of the gut by an insistent toddler, crying, “What about me? Don’t forget about me.”

And an itch can’t be ignored, just dulled beneath the slathering of cortisone cream or a good dose of Benadryl.

Ogden Nash once said that happiness is having a scratch for every itch, and as I considered those words, I took a quick inventory of my world and looked at the areas that feel the itchiest.

Certainly, the pandemic gave me room to let a few things slide; sadly, exercise tops that list. Mark Twain’s words have been my mantra – “Every time I feel the urge to exercise, I lie down until the feeling passes away.” But it’s time to get up.

And there are other areas - more irritated and inflamed - that are longing for care. And ideas that have been percolating beneath the surface that I want to take on.

Now seems like a pretty good time to find that happiness Nash speaks of, and graze the skin that is calling out. What’s my itch?

Life doesn’t always go as planned, but if we look carefully, amongst the disappointment, there are usually some pretty good lessons to extract. So I have settled into the determined and tenacious itch, and with the close of a challenging year, this timing feels perfect.